


Feminine and Fatal

by maplewix (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (Harry is an ace lesbian), Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, F/F, Girl Power, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Lesbian Character, NaNoWriMo 2014, PoC Harry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trans Character, Trans Draco, Trans Female Character, Trans Harry, Transmisogyny, Transphobia, and queer, bear with me, it's only the nineties, not the t slur though, period-typical stuff, q slur used a lot, trans girls, trans trans trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/maplewix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In their eighth year, Harry discovers by accident that Draco Malfoy is a trans girl. (AKA: trans drarry ftw.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i;m dfab. if i screw this up, please let me know.

“Oh—oh shit, sorry—“ 

Harry had only caught the glimpse of the half-dressed girl, but he couldn’t help the further glance he took—and froze. 

“Malfoy?” 

Malfoy seemed frozen in similar horror before recovering himself. “Shut the fucking door, Potter,” he snapped. 

Harry stepped inside as if in a trance and locked the door behind him. 

“You’re wearing a dress,” he said. 

Malfoy sniffed a little, disdainful and sharp at the edges as always. “Really, Potter, must you state the obvious?” The remark wasn’t nearly up to normal Malfoy caliber. 

“I—“ Harry said. Malfoy was wearing a dress. It was a beautiful dress, delicate and well-made, but all the same. A dress. 

Malfoy’s mask of disdain broke down a little bit. “Please don’t tell,” he said. 

Harry took in the rest of the room. Clearly Malfoy had found the abandoned classroom and had turned it into a dressing room of sorts. There was a trunk full of delicate dresses in the corner of the room. Somewhere, Harry realized, where snooping roommates couldn’t find them. 

He unbuttoned his cloak without thinking and reached for a dress that was draped over a desk. “Here,” he said. He tugged it on. Malfoy was taller than he was, and the hem of the dress pooled around his feet. “Alright? Now we’re even. I can’t tell anyone without you telling everyone that I wore a dress, too.” 

Malfoy looked at him askance. “That is an asinine plan. I have no reason to believe that you would hold to it. After all, who knows? You might be just as much of a cross-dressing queer as I am.” His voice shook a little on the last words. He must have been just terrified, Harry realized slowly. The school was already aching for a reason to turn on him. Being queer would be more than enough of a push over the edge. 

“I won’t rat you out,” Harry said. “I promise. That would be incredibly shitty of me.” 

“Well.” Malfoy stared at the ground, awkward and uncertain. “Gryffindor’s honor, hm?” 

“Sure,” Harry said. “Something like that.” He paused. “So you’re—gay?” 

Malfoy frowned. “No, Potter, you plebeian, I’m transgender.” 

Harry didn’t know what that meant, and it must have shown in his face, because Malfoy sighed in irritation. 

“I’m a girl,” Malfoy snapped. “When I was born, everyone thought I was a boy, but I’m actually a girl, okay?” 

Harry was reminded guiltily of all the times he and his friends had made fun of Malfoy’s hair for being girly. 

“Oh,” he said. “Well. That’s, er. That’s cool, then.” 

Malfoy scowled at him. “Now could you leave me alone here?” he—she?—demanded. 

“Right, sorry.” Harry removed the dress he was wearing and hastily left the room under Malfoy’s silent glower. 

 

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy as a queer girl. 

It just—it went against everything he’d ever thought about him— _her_! Malfoy, who had lorded her privilege and power over everyone, Malfoy with a huge secret that could turn the whole school against—against her. 

Not that they weren’t already pretty anti-Malfoy. Her being a Death Eater was no secret amongst the students, especially the Eighth Years who had fought in the war together. 

Harry thought about Malfoy’s horror-struck, guilty face and the unzipped dress that hung on her slight build. He couldn’t shake the memory of the dress that had pooled around his own feet and made soft noises as he moved. 

He found himself thinking and wondering about what had made Malfoy so sure that she was a girl. 

Hermione noticed that something was distracting him. “What’s wrong, Harry?” she had asked, and Harry hadn’t had a good answer for her. 

All of this led to how Harry how himself standing outside the Room of Requirement one Tuesday evening. 

He wasn’t even sure if it would still work, but he concentrated and paced back and forth in front of the wall. 

A door appeared. 

He seized the handle and threw it open, finding a room that was more similar to a walk-in closet than anything else. The walls were covered in the pattern of dancing flames, Harry saw, and shivered at the memory of the Fiendfyre. 

He carefully shut the door behind him and went to the row of dresses along the wall. He ran a hand across the fabric and found it to be silky-smooth. He glanced around furtively, as if someone might leap out of a corner of the secret room and shout, “QUEER!” before slowly taking off his cloak and shirt. He left his trousers on, feeling self-conscious, and carefully stepped into the soft green dress. 

It hung a little loosely on him, the way he preferred his clothes, but didn’t trip him up when he walked the way Malfoy’s had. He turned to look in the mirror. He didn’t look like a girl, he thought critically. His stubble was showing and his hair was short and its usual mess. The green stood out with his eyes against his middling brown skin, though, and he caught his breath a little as the Room of Requirement dimmed the lights until his reflection could have been a short-haired girl in a pretty dress. 

Terror seized him suddenly, and he tore the hem of the dress in his rush to take it back off. He hastily replaced it, feeling guilty and miserable, like some awful secret was lying heavy in his stomach. Harry grabbed his shirt and hurriedly put it on and left the room, trying not to run from the phrase that had run through his head. 

_Harry Potter — the Girl Who Lived._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse bb trans harry's uncertainty around language, she's still learning

“Malfoy!” Harry hissed. “Malfoy!” 

Malfoy paused in confusion, looking around. Harry stuck a hand out from under the invisibility cloak and waved at her. 

Malfoy raised an eyebrow disdainfully in his general direction. 

Harry sighed and lowered the cloak just enough so that she could see who he was. “Can we talk?” he whispered. 

Malfoy’s eyes hardened, as if bracing herself for something painful, but nodded and stepped out of the way of an incoming group of third years and neatly into a passageway behind a tapestry. 

Harry followed her, relieved that she was entertaining his out of the blue desire to chat. 

“What do you want, Potter?” Malfoy asked. Her voice was sharp like razors. 

“Just—erm.” Harry found himself tongue-tied. He cast a privacy ward to give himself time to gather his thoughts. “How, uh, how did you know that you’re—you know…” 

“Transgender, Potter,” Malfoy sighed. “Or transsexual if you must.” 

“Right. That. How did you know?” 

“I hope there is something to this line of questioning, and not just morbid curiosity,” Malfoy warned, looking caught between intrigue and annoyance. “I just knew, alright? I never felt right when people called me ‘he’ and eventually I figured it out.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. He felt smaller than usual and his face felt hot. 

Malfoy took a closer look at him in the dim of the passageway. “What, don’t tell me that you’re trans, too.” 

Trans. The word fell so easily from her mouth. Even thinking the word maybe Harry seize up with nerves. 

“Well,” Malfoy said. “I can’t say I saw that coming.” 

“Will you help me?” Harry blurted out before he lost his nerve. “Understand, I mean.” 

Malfoy looked put-upon. “Seriously? You want me of all people to be the queer mother goose to your gosling possible-transness?” 

“Pretty much,” Harry admitted. 

Malfoy sighed again, drawn out and melodramatic. “I suppose it wouldn’t be too terrible,” she said. “But only if you’ll let me do something to your hair.” 

Harry touched his hair defensively. “My hair’s fine.” 

“Of course it’s _fine_ ,” Malfoy said. “It’s just that it could be better, and I am the queen of hair styles. Why haven’t you ever grown it out?” 

Harry shrugged uncertainly. “It’s not any more tameable long,” he explained. “It’s just… poofier.” 

“Poofier is much better than the mess it currently is,” Malfoy said decisively. “Come on, Potter, what’s the harm? You can always cut it later.” 

“Okay,” Harry said. “Maybe I’ll try it longer.” He tried to picture himself with longer hair and felt the same unsettled swooping feeling in his stomach whenever he thought about what it would be like to be a girl. 

He swallowed hard. “Does it get any less scary?” he asked quickly, hoping that Malfoy wouldn’t belittle him for the comment. “Being—being—“ 

Malfoy’s continual sneer softened. “Not really,” she admitted. “You just learn to look less afraid and eventually it sort of feels like that’s really who you are.” 

Harry nodded and stared at his feet, nervous and shy and hopeful. He’d never thought that Malfoy could manage to be kind when someone came to her for help. 

“Where do you want to meet?” Malfoy was asking. “There’s the classroom I’ve been using, but as you proved, that’s not so secure—“

“The Room of Requirement is still working,” Harry interjected. 

Malfoy frowned. 

“The Room of Hidden Things,” he clarified. “If you think you’ll be okay, since—“

She cut him off before he could finish that thought. “That’ll be fine, I suppose. It really wasn’t damaged? What happened to the flames?” 

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I can make it turn into a dressing-room, though.” 

“Well, that should work perfectly, then,” Malfoy said briskly. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow after dinner, perhaps around eight. May I go now?” 

Harry had in fact planned on spending the next evening with his friends, but he didn’t want to scare her off. “Alright,” he agreed. “I’ll see you then.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Malfoy was late. 

Harry had been waiting for at least ten minutes already, and he was starting to wonder if she was planning on showing up at all. It was possible Malfoy was just late. Maybe she’d been caught up in talking to a teacher. Of course, a lot of the teachers weren’t exactly the friendliest to her, so maybe not that. 

Malfoy finally appeared at a quarter past eight, looking unruffled and serene. “Shall we, Potter?” she asked, as if she wasn’t even aware that she was late. 

Harry fell a need to point it out. “You’re late.”

Malfoy’s eyes glinted. “What makes you think I’m not aware of that?” 

Harry sighed and opened the Room of Requirement. 

This time, the room was a little different. There were two rows of dresses this time, and a chest of drawers, supposedly also full of feminine clothing. 

Malfoy caught her breath besides Harry sharply before composing herself again. “Well, go on,” she said, and followed Harry into the room. 

The door clicked shut ominously behind them. An awkward silence fell. 

Harry cast about wildly for something to say. “So,” he tried. “Um, have you flown much lately?” 

Malfoy looked at him askance. “Is that really the best you could come up with?” she snarked. She wandered over to the drawers and opened them one by one, poking around and hm-ing when she saw something she liked. “Try this on,” she said, throwing a skirt and blouse at Harry. 

Harry caught them and looked around wildly. The room helpfully provided a screen for him to change behind. 

He heard Malfoy cough out a laugh as he ducked behind it and scowled. 

Uncomfortably, he quickly pulled on the clothes Malfoy had selected before poking his head out from behind the screen. She had changed into a shimmery silver dress and was admiring herself in the mirror. 

“Come on out, let me see you,” she said without turning around. Harry edged out and moved to the other mirror. 

He was too gangly and angled to look like a girl, he thought. The blouse hung loosely over his chest and the skirt seemed too tight. 

Malfoy came up behind him. “What do you think?” 

Harry shrugged uncertainly. 

“Is it alright if I cast a spell?” Malfoy pressed. “Just a glamour. It might make it easier to see how you feel about the outfit.” 

Harry considered that offer carefully, and found that he did, in fact, trust Malfoy not to curse him while his guard was down. “Alright,” he decided. 

If Malfoy was surprised at his acceptance, she didn’t show any sign of it. She just nodded and drew the wand that Harry had returned to her over the last summer. 

“ _Glamoures Pec,”_ she said with a careful twist of her wand. Harry looked in the mirror again and gasped. 

Malfoy had charmed him to look like he had breasts. He didn’t feel any different physically, but the person in the mirror looked much more like a girl, albeit a very nervous and upset-looking girl. 

“Better?” asked Malfoy. “It’s fine if not, breasts aren’t for everyone.” 

“It’s perfect,” Harry said. 

Malfoy looked pleased. “I make a very good queer mother goose, then?” 

“The best,” Harry said. “Thank you.” 

“While we’re on the topic,” Malfoy continued, “do you still want to be called Harry?” 

Harry hadn’t considered this before. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said. He tried and failed to picture himself as a Harriet. 

“You don’t have to change your name,” Malfoy reassured. “I just asked because I want to.” 

“Oh?” Harry asked, momentarily distracted from his appearance. “What do you want to change to?” 

“Well, I’m still rather attached to Draco,” she confessed, “so I chose the name of one of the stars in my constellation, ‘Etamin’, and added a feminine ending. Etamina Lucia Malfoy.” 

“That’s pretty,” Harry said. 

“Yes, I thought so,” Malfoy said, sounding pleased. 

A bit of mischief flickered through Harry suddenly. “So, Mina,” he said. “What do you want to try on next?” 

“ _No_ ,” Malfoy said. “I do not do nicknames.” 

“Everyone does nicknames,” Harry teased. “Mina.”

Malfoy huffed in offense. “It’s Etamina,” she said primly, and waltzed off to try on a different dress. 

Harry laughed under his breath and returned to the mirror. “Harry went for a walk by herself,” he tried. The words felt good, right. “She lives in the Gryffindor dormitory. Her best friends are Ron and Hermione.” Harry smiled at her reflection. She felt happy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> much like mina doesn't do nicknames, i don't do long chapters except by accident. here you go!


	4. Chapter 4

The weeks flew by. Harry and Mina agreed to make their meetings weekly. Hermione, of course, instantly noticed. 

“Harry,” she asked one evening. “Where do you keep going?” 

Harry froze up. In all the times she had med with Mina, she had yet to think of a good excuse. “Uh…” 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. 

“I’ve been meeting a friend,” he admitted, and wondered when Malfoy had been reclassified as such. “I’m not sure I can say more without betraying h— …without screwing things up.” 

Hermione frowned. “But you’re safe, right?” 

“Yeah, of course!” Harry said instantly. “No, I’ve been really happy with this.” 

“You have seemed more cheerful,” Hermione allowed. “And you can take care of yourself.” 

“Yes I can,” Harry agreed. “It’s not anything dangerous, and when I can tell you, you’ll be the first to know.” 

“Alright then,” Hermione sighed. “I’ll let it go, so long as you’re safe.” 

“Thank you,” she said, and that was that. 

 

* * *

 

“Okay, what do you you think?” 

Mina stepped out from behind the curtain, dressed entirely in blue, from the blue skirts to the shoes to the false-sapphire necklace. She was beaming. 

“You look great,” Harry said honestly. “Never better.” 

She smiled at her delightedly. “Okay, your turn.” 

Harry ducked behind the curtain and carefully changed form her practical uniform-esque skirt into a flawy summer wrap. The room warmed accordingly so that she didn’t even get goosebumps. She added a delicate silver necklace and some bangles and reappeared for Mina’s thoughts on the outfit. 

Mina smiled, but then frowned. “It needs something,” she said decisively, and spun around to rummage through the jewelry box. 

Harry felt a tad unhappy at this judgement. “I thought it was pretty,” she defended. 

“It is, it is,” Mina reassured her. “It’s just a bit lacking… aha!” She spun around with a pair of earrings. 

Harry’s hand went to her ear. “But I don’t have them pierced.” 

Mina smiled secretively. “Clip-ons.” 

Harry smiled slowly and brightly and let her approach to snap them into place on her ears. Her reflection winked at her. She looked beautiful. 

 

* * *

 

Except things weren’t quite that simple. 

“You’re serious,” Mina demanded. “You seriously want us to be friends… publicly. You realize how bad of an idea that is for you, right? Everyone’s going to think I bewitched you!” 

Harry hadn’t considered that last angle. 

“No, but it’ll make things easier,” she argued. “We can meet without our friends being suspicious. We’ll be able to be friends without it being a secret. Frankly, I’m very tired of keeping secrets. I’m sure you are too.” 

“Slytherins always keep secrets,” Mina said instantly, but relented. “If you honestly want to, I won’t stop you. Merlin knows it can’t do much more to hurt my reputation. It might even improve it.” 

“See, it’s a good idea,” Harry said. 

“Except for the part where people will follow us around, trying to figure out where we’re going.” 

“We can lock the door, and my friends will cover for us,” Harry promised. 

“Alright,” Mina sighed. “If you think it’s best…”  

 

* * *

 

“You’re friends with _Malfoy_?” 

Harry winced at the volume. “Yeah,” she said. “I am. And—and he’s surprisingly good company.” It hurt more than she’d expected to use the wrong pronouns. 

“But why?” Ron’s confusion, she reflected, was very understandable. 

Harry shrugged. “I don’t really know. It just sort of happened.” 

“But why _Malfoy_ ,” Ron prodded. “I mean, I get that his life kind of sucks now, but he’s still the same as he was before.” 

“He isn’t, really,” Harry insisted stubbornly. “I think he’s changed. I think everything that happened changed him, the same as it changed all of us.” 

“That may be so, Harry,” Hermione said, looking troubled, “but do you trust him? Is he still as anti-muggle as he was before?” 

“I… I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “It hasn’t really come up. That’s definitely different than before, right? Before we could hardly go a sentence before he brought up my mum.” 

“True,” she said. “Well, if you’re really sure, then I’ll support you, but if he insults me again I won’t put up with it.” 

“Neither will I,” Harry promised. 

 

* * *

 

“Your sure about this?” Mina had asked one last time the night before. 

Harry was sure. He took a deep breath and walked into the Great Hall just as Mina was exiting. 

“Good morning, Malfoy,” he said politely. 

“Morning, Potter,” she returned without missing a beat. 

Everyone in their vicinity stared, and Harry saw the edge of Mina’s smirk as she disappeared from the hall. 


	5. Chapter 5

Harry and Mina burst into the Room of Requirement and slammed the door shut behind them. 

“I think—“ Harry panted, “I think we lost him.” 

Some overly-curious fifth year had followed them when they tried to escape to the Room of Requirement. With any luck, they had managed to evade the young rascal. 

“I hope so,” Mina muttered. Harry knew that she was nervous about what would happened now that their friendship was public. 

“Well,” Harry said, trying to clear the air. “What shall we do today?” 

She successfully drew a smile out of Mina. “I did have one thing planned,” she admitted. “How do you feel about the color gold?” 

 

* * *

 

Everyone stared at Harry  the next night when she entered the Common Room. 

“What she asked defensively. It was bad enough already with the staring and awe over her defeat of Voldemort. A horrible thought stuck her. What if they _knew_? 

Ron hurried to her side, but not before someone asked, “Harry, is it true you’re dating Malfoy?” 

“What?” Harry asked. “No! We’re not—we’re good friends, but we’re not _dating_.” Her stomach swooped uncomfortably. 

The staring masses didn’t seem to believe her. 

Ron reached her. “If Harry says so, it’s not true,” he said firmly. “Now leave him along about it.” 

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said tiredly as everyone slowly returned to their own business. 

“Anytime, mate,” Ron said cheerfully. 

Harry sighed with dread, knowing that this particular night was likely only the beginning of the rumor spree to come… 

 

* * *

 

**Harry Potter—Gay?** asked the newspaper a week later. 

Harry’s hand clenched on the paper, wrinkling it. 

“What is it?” Ron asked, for once attuned to Harry’s moods. He glanced over at the paper and made a face. “Is this more about the Malfoy thing?” 

The school was staring and muttering. After all these years, Harry still wasn’t used to it. 

“I just feel,” a voice said from behind him, “that I should make it clear that I did not sell you to the newspapers.” 

“Hey, Malfoy,” Harry said to Mina, who smiled briefly. 

“Shove over,” she said to Neville. “It’s my turn to sit next to our savior.” 

Neville scooted away with a raised eyebrow. Mina dropped into the vacated seat like half the Hall wasn’t staring in dead silence at this breach in House protocol. 

“I know you didn’t sell me out, they didn’t quote any ‘Hogwarts student saying bad things about that git Potter and wishing to remain anonymous’,” Harry said. 

“Well, now you have double confirmation. Alright, Weasley, Granger?” 

“Good morning,” Hermione said politely from across the table, her nose still buried in pages six and seven. Bless Hermione—a war and too many deaths later, but she still avidly read the paper each morning. 

“Morning,” Ron mumbled uncomfortably. He shot Harry an appealing look, as if he hoped she might remove the snake from their midst. 

Harry had no such plans. “How are you this morning?” she asked Mina, hoping the Gryffindors would catch on and stop staring. 

“Oh, well enough, but our table is out of coffee where I was sitting,” Mina said airily, pouring herself a cup. “I just can’t function without a proper hit of caffeine every morning, you know.” 

“Well, now I know,” Harry said, amused, as Mina all but shoved her pointy nose in the coffee cup to inhale the smell. 

“Harry,” asked a sixth year by the name of Arnold MacDurman, “have you tested for love potions?” 

He sounded so genuinely concerned that Harry managed to bite down her temper enough not to give him a verbal mauling. 

“We’re not dating, and—“ She tried hard not to stumble over Mina’s pronouns. “And he didn’t slip me a love potion, honestly. And before you say anything, no, I am not under the Imperius curse.” 

“You can shake it off anyway,” Mina reminded the table at large casually, so casually in fact that it was a superb show of sneakiness, as the table slowly relaxed and returned to their breakfasts. The chatter at the table came back. 

Harry felt a sudden surge of guilt that Ron and Hermione didn’t know her secret. They had been through so much together, too much for her to keep something as non-dangerous as gender confusion secret. 

Trying to shake off a wave of nervousness, Harry struck up a conversation with Mina and Ron, hoping that they might become better friends. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: cis people being cissexist, confrontations, slurs

Two weeks later, and Harry couldn’t take it any longer. 

“Hermione, can I talk to you?” 

“Of course, Harry,” she said, instantly setting aside her books and fixing her with an attentive expression. 

“Somewhere private, maybe?” Harry pressed. 

Hermione frowned, but agreed. They left the Common Room and Harry directed them away from their usual hiding spot. She wanted somewhere more private. 

They ended up in an empty classroom on the sixth floor. Harry cast a few privacy wards and turned to her friend. 

Hermione was perched on a dusty desk, watching her quietly. Harry knew that her mind had to be racing, coming up with theories. 

“Whatever it is,” she said, “you can tell me.” 

“Um,” Harry said, suddenly stricken with terror and a leaden tongue. “Er. I. I’m.” 

Hermione’s expression was patient. 

“I just thought,” she said, and lost her nerve. “That, um, maybe you could help me with my Potions homework? I’m nervous that…” She trailed off at Hermione’s disbelieving look. 

“What is it, Harry?” she asked. “I don’t think you brought me here to talk about Potions.” 

“I’m—” Harry sucked in a deep breath. This was an entirely new kind of bravery. _You faced Voldemort_ , she sternly reminded herself. _You can do this._

“I’m a girl,” she said. 

Hermione stared at her blankly. 

Harry winced. “Sorry for just blurting it out—I had to tell someone! I mean, Malfoy knows, but that’s different, I–”

Hermione shook her head, cutting her off. “What do you mean, you’re a girl? And why does Malfoy know?” She sounded genuinely confused. 

“Have you heard of transgender people?” Harry asked. “Or transsexual people?” 

She frowned. “You mean… you were a boy, but you want to be a girl? Medically?” 

Harry flushed at Hermione’s implications. “I hadn’t thought about that,” she said. “I just found out that Malfoy—” She cut herself off. Oops. 

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Malfoy’s like you, too?” 

Harry frowned at the ground. “I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you,” she admitted. 

“I won’t tell,” Hermione reassured her. “So you… knew about Malfoy? Being a transsexual? And you are, too?” 

“I guess I never realized I had options,” Harry mumbled. “I don’t think I’m a gay man, for sure. I’m a girl. But I don’t know what that means for my sexuality, and I’m just really confused.” 

“Well,” Hermione said brightly, “that’s easily remedied. There are books that will have the answers you want.” 

Typical Hermione. Harry rolled her eyes. “I think I need to figure it out myself.” 

“But the books will help,” Hermione decided. “There’s got to be people like you before, and so there’ll be information. I’ll find out what I can and see if any of it helps you.” 

She slid off the desk and wrapped Harry in a hug. “Thank you for trusting me with this,” she said. “I’ll support you no matter what, you know that.” 

Harry shut her eyes and hugged her friend back. “Thank you,” she echoed with a dry throat and wet eyes. 

 

* * *

 

“You _what_.” 

Harry had almost forgotten how pale Mina got when she was angry. She made quite a picture, dressed in pale gold and sitting at the vanity with makeup strewn across it. 

“Um,” Harry stammered. “I didn’t mean to.” 

“You told the Mudblood?” 

Harry went from apologetic to irritated at once. “You’re better than that. Don’t use that word.” 

Mina simmered with rage and gave Harry a dreadful look. “I’ll say what I like about people who betray me,” she spat. “You’re a Mudblood too, you know.” 

“Okay,” Harry snapped. “If you don’t want to be friends with _Mudbloods,_ then why did you ever bother in the first place?” Harry paused. “Ferret-face,” she added. 

Mina stood up from the vanity and took a menacing step towards Harry. “You foul little girl,” she said. “I can’t believe I actually trusted you not to say anything.” 

“Yeah, well,” Harry took a step back. “Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe we shouldn’t have tried to be friends.” 

“Maybe you’re right,” Mina snapped. 

When nothing else seemed to be forthcoming, Harry turned and walked to the door. 

A stinging hex got her in the back of the knee and she tripped. Catching her feet again, she managed to get the last word. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you haven’t grown up after all.” With that, she walked out. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: outdated language

Hermione looked askance. “Harry, I wouldn’t have told anyone. Obviously this is a highly private matter. Frankly, I’m amazed you told me.” 

Harry winced. “Yeah, I really shouldn’t have told you about her.” 

Hermione shrugged. “Well, now that I do know, you don’t have to worry. Malfoy’s and your secret is safe with me.” 

“What about Ron?” Harry asked. 

“That’s up to you,” she said mildly. “I wouldn’t pressure you into anything. If you’re not ready to tell him, you’re not ready.” 

“Thank you,” Harry said fervently. 

“Of course,” Hermione said. “The first of those books arrived for you, by the way. I read through the first few chapters and it seems to be a rather dry analysis of something called the Kinsey Scale. I’ve been making some notes for you.” 

“You’re the best, Hermione,” Harry honestly said. “Thank you so much.” 

She smiled at him. “That’s what friends are for, right? Oh, speaking of.” 

Ron waved hello. “Got you some breakfast,” he said. “Figured you might want to avoid the rumor mill.” 

“Oh no,” Harry said. 

“Yeah, Malfoy’s pretty publicly angry with you,” Ron said. “What happened?” 

Harry winced. “I said something I shouldn’t have, and then he was shitty about it, so we fought.” Pared down, it sounded so much less serious than it was. 

“I think he told basically everyone he came across that the two of you aren’t friends anymore,” Ron said with a tone of minor admiration for Malfoy’s dedication. “I’ve already been asked if he was using a spell on you.” 

Harry scowled. “Well, he wasn’t, and honestly, our friendship isn’t any of their business.” 

“Everyone wants to know why you two aren’t friends anymore.” The look Ron gave Harry clearly said that Ron was also wondering about the details. He paused. “I hate to ask, Harry, but…” 

Harry sighed. “I can’t say. I’m really sorry, but I already betrayed Malfoy’s trust once. I shouldn’t do it again.” 

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” Hermione said, slipping an arm through Ron’s to link them together. She offered him a gentle smile. “But I’m sure time can help fix this. Have you apologized?” 

Harry winced. “No.” 

“Well, you should start there and see what happens,” Hermione offered. 

“You’re always right,” Harry said. He grinned at his friends tiredly. “Thanks for being so supportive.” 

“Always, Harry,” she promised promptly, and Ron nodded agreement. 

 

* * *

 

_Dear Malfoy_ , the letter read. _I am so sorry for betraying your trust. I’ve spoken to Hermione, and she promises that she never would have told. I won’t tell anyone else, either, for that matter. Telling Hermione was a horrible mistake and I won’t repeat your secret without your permission to anyone else. Harry._

Harry watched from across the Hall as Malfoy read the letter, looking upset, and then pulled out her wand and burned it beside her morning toast. 

 

* * *

 

Harry walked down the path to Hagrid’s house, feeling forlorn and missing Mina’s friendship. Maybe Hagrid would have some advice on repairing what Harry had broken so badly. 

She paused for a moment on the doorstep, preparing herself before knocking. 

Hagrid opened the door and beamed at Harry, holding back Fang with his free hand. “Harry!” 

“Hello, Hagrid,” Harry said, suddenly feeling much better. 

“Ron and Hermione not with you?” Hagrid asked. 

“No,” Harry said. “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.” 

Hagrid’s eyes crinkled in a kind smile. “Come on in,” he offered, and Harry stepped inside. 

She took a seat at the table while Hagrid puttered about, making tea and thumping down a pile of scones that Harry graciously picked at. She thought about Hagrid’s pink umbrella and the way he called himself Mummy when talking to Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback. 

“Hagrid,” Harry said awkwardly. “Have you ever felt… do you know what it’s like to not feel entirely like a boy or a girl, but definitely something different than what you’re supposed to be?” 

Hagrid set the tea down and sat across form Harry. “I suppose most people feel like that from time to time. Why? Do you not feel like a boy?” 

Harry shook her head. “I’ve… I’ve taken to calling myself a girl,” she admitted quietly. “But, I don’t know, I don’t feel enough like a girl to be a girl, but neither am I a boy, but sometimes I wonder if I’m just fooling myself and I’m actually a boy after all.” She looked pleadingly at Hagrid. “Do you understand?” 

Hagrid put a supportive hand on Harry’s, nearly squashing her hand flat. “Like I said, most people don’t feel perfect in their genders,” Hagrid said. “But for some people, we feel it more. It doesn’t make us less good of people, and doubt doesn’t make who you are inside wrong. It just makes things a little more muddy, you know?” 

Harry nodded and smiled a little waterily. “Thank you.” 

Hagrid smiled gently. “Of course, Harry.” He cleared his throat. “Now, what’s all this business I hear about with the Malfoy boy?” 

Harry grimaced. “Oh. That. We were friends for a little while, I suppose, but now we’ve fought and I don’t think Malfoy wants to be friends anymore.” She scowled at her mug of tea. “But I still want to be friends,” she admitted. “I apologized for why we fought but he doesn’t seem to want to forgive me.” 

“Well, people forgive in their own time,” Hagrid comforted. “He’ll forgive you or he won’t, but the only thing you can really do now is give him time to move on.” 

“Right,” Harry said, taking a deep breath of the steam off her tea. “Thank you. I’ll try to give him space.” 


	8. Chapter 8

The cauldron exploded in a burst of fire. 

Hermione’s wand was out in a split-second, freezing the flames midair, but not before Pansy Parkinson’s skin had begun to decay. 

“Oh dear,” Slughorn said, hurrying over with the antidote. “I did warn you that the potion was volatile even when made correctly! Miss Granger, your potion looks excellent. Why don’t you escort Miss Parkinson to the Hospital Wing while Mr. Potter tends the potion. Ah, Mr. Malfoy, you don’t have a partner now? Why don’t you just join up with Mr. Potter there!” Slughorn was clearly pleased with himself for settling the crisis so efficiently. 

Mina didn’t look at Harry once as she moved over to join her. 

“Let’s just work, okay, Potter?” she said. Harry caught Susan Bones craning her head to watch them. 

“Can I say sorry in person at least?” Harry asked quietly. 

Mina groaned. “What do you want from me, Potter?” 

“I miss being friends,” Harry admitted. 

“Do you miss me, or do you miss having someone like you around?” she snapped. 

“I miss _you_ ,” Harry insisted. 

“Look, I forgive you, but I just don’t know,” Mina sighed. 

“We could at least try,” Harry suggested. “We never really tried to be friends beyond…” She lowered her voice. “Beyond you-know-what. We could try being friendly just as normal people. As friends. Not as people who share the same secret.” 

“We can’t pretend we don’t share that secret,” Mina pointed out. “All we can do is hide it and let it fester below the surface.” 

Harry nodded. “I know,” she said. “But I still want to try.” 

“Alright,” Mina said. “If you’re sure. I don’t know what Hogwarts is going to think, though…” 

 

* * *

 

“Wait,” Ron said, screwing up his face in confusion. “You and Malfoy were friends, but then you weren’t, but now you are again?” 

“That’s right,” Harry agreed. “Except this time he and his friends will probably end up hanging out with us.” She felt inordinately cheerful at the idea of spending time with a bunch of Slytherins. 

“Of course your friendship would be just as tempestuous as your time as rivals,” Hermione muttered. 

“Hey now,” Harry said mildly. 

“So everyone’s fascinated by the drama of course,” Hermione retorted, changing the subject smoothly. 

“Ugh,” Harry said wholeheartedly. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?” 

“Well, you did save them all from a horrible fate of slavery and torture,” Ron pointed out. “Other than that, I really have no idea why.” 

Harry made a face. “Thanks, Ron. That helps.” Hey voice was dry as dust. 

“I hear Ginny’s dating Neville,” Hermione put in tentatively, watching Harry’s face. 

She tried not to frown and failed. “Good for her,” she managed.

“Are you okay with that?” Hermione pressed. 

“Fine,” she gritted out. “Leave it alone, okay?” 

Ginny had unceremoniously dumped Harry after the war. She had told her that she would always love her, but that she didn’t think they were right together. “I need to be with someone who includes me,” she had said matter-of-factly. “If I’m going to date, I want to be with someone who will fight by my side.” 

To be fair, her points were completely valid. Harry still felt shitty, though. 

Ron frowned. “I thought she was dating Luna.” 

Harry’s head shot up. “Ginny and Luna?” 

Ron hesitated. “I guess I assumed you’d be okay with that…” He trailed off meaningfully. 

It took Harry a second to catch on. “Oh, no, no problem,” she hurriedly reassured. “I’m just surprised.” 

Ron shrugged. “Maybe they’re all dating. Who knows.” 

Hermione looked confused. “Is that common with wizards?” 

“Not really,” Ron admitted. “But you know that Seamus and Dean were dating Susan Bones a few years ago, right? It’s not that rare.” 

“They were?” Harry asked. 

“Uh, yeah,” Ron said, as if it were obvious. 

Clearly Harry’s observational skills needed work if Ron had noticed something before Harry. 

“That makes sense, considering the historical context of homosexuality’s acceptance by wizards,” Hermione said thoughtfully. Catching Harry’s blank look, she added, “I can lend you a book on it if you want.” 

“Uh—no thanks,” Harry said. Not while Ron was there, curiously watching, anyway. 

Hermione shrugged it off, used to it, and the conversation moved on. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooowwww, nano really kicked my butt this year. here's the next chapter.

 

 

Harry rounded the corner and froze in surprise. Hermione and Pansy Parkinson were chatting together in the hallway leading up to the Gryffindor dormitory. 

“Uh,” she said. 

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione said brightly. “Listen, I was just talking to Pansy here—” _Pansy_? “—And we thought it would be lovely if we all hung out this evening, us and Malfoy’s friends. What do you think?” 

“Er,” Harry said, caught between reflexively agreeing and turning to run for cover at Hermione Granger and Pansy Prissy Pureblood Parkinson having a chat. “That sounds great,” she managed weakly. “Fun.” 

Parkinson eyed her with a sneer. 

“Erm,” Harry said, and edged past them. “I’ll just be…” She made a break for it, walking briskly down the hallway and escaping into the Common Room. 

“Ron,” she hissed. “Ron, Hermione and Pansy Parkinson and becoming friends!” 

Ron looked just as surprised by this turn of events as Harry felt. Then he looked thoughtful. 

“That makes sense, considering it’s Hermione,” Ron decided. “She’d want to be friends with your friends.” 

“I’m hardly friends with Parkinson,” Harry protested. 

“That’s nice, Potter,” Parkinson said from directly behind her. Harry nearly leapt out of her skin. 

“Although I suppose it’s true,” Parkinson said with an eye roll. “Move, Weasley.” 

Ron obligingly scooted over. Parkinson dropped down directly across from Harry and crossed her legs in a way that deliberately drew attention to the shapeliness of them. 

Harry was so out of her depth. 

“So, you’ve stolen dear Draco’s heart,” she began, flicking an invisible strand of hair out of her face. 

“We’re not—”

She held up a hand to cut her off. “You’ve stolen dear Draco’s heart, and now I pay the price with the company of Gryffindors.” She eyed the red and gold decorations with disdain. “I suppose I can adjust.” 

Ron looked like he was considering being offended. 

“In any case,” she continued, “we all make sacrifices in the name of friendship. I trust you will extend the same effort to friendliness as I am extending to you.” 

She didn’t seem all that friendly to Harry, but she wisely chose not to point that out. 

“Of course,” she said instead. “I’d be delighted to call Malfoy’s friends mine as well.” 

She smiled like icicles. “Wonderful,” she said. “Gregory, Draco, and I will be expecting you in our Common Room after dinner. Are we agreed to meet then?” 

Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked encouraging. 

“Of course,” Harry said, drawing upon every once of Slytherin courtesy she possessed. “We’ll see you at that time, then?” 

Pansy rose and smiled down at her. She looked less like a pug from this angle, Harry decided, even if her nose was still rather squashed-looking. 

“Yes, I’ll be seeing you quite soon,” she said decisively, and slipped from the Common Room like a particularly Slytherin butterfly. 

Harry exchanged a horrified look with Ron. “What have I gotten us into?” she groaned. 

 

* * *

 

The meeting in the Slytherin Common Room was… awkward, to say the least. 

Harry sat next to Mina, who seemed to be studiously ignoring her from sheer uncomfortableness. Ron sat next to Hermione, who was serenely perched on one of the ornate armchairs. 

“So, uh,” Harry offered. “How is all of your weeks going?” 

“Oh, just wonderfully,” Pansy beamed. “I’m _so_ glad to be making new friends, let me tell you.” 

Everyone in their vicinity was staring at the odd group. 

“Look, Granger,” Mina said abruptly. “I owe you an apology.” 

Hermione looked startled. “What for?” 

“For all the shit I’ve called you over the years,” Mina said. “That was really awful of me, and I’m sorry.” 

“Well.” Hermione looked pleased. “Apology accepted.” 

Goyle was ominously silent, eyeing us all. 

“So tell us, Harry,” Pansy said lightly. “How has life been treating you?” 

“Um, it’s been alright,” she said, wishing that this conversation could have taken place anywhere other than the beating heart of the Slytherin dormitories. 

Ron twitched nervously across from her. 

Could this have been any more awkward?


End file.
